My first book – Conversations With My Therapist

I wrote a book that touches on many of the common issues of women today. It’s not written just for women it’s just that I am one, a woman. I speak on abuse, both emotional and physical, divorce, and abortion. I show the reader my transformation from a timid lost girl to a woman with power. I let the reader experience my feelings and thoughts throughout the process. My goal is to empower others to find their own strength.

I’m new to publishing, and once in awhile I feel a streak of fear run through my system; but, my story is the same as many others’ and the world needs it. The more people who know the secrets and the better others understand, then maybe it can stop. Maybe reading my story will help another escape his or her hell. Maybe.

Please let me know if you’re interested. I’m an open book now.

Thank you for reading,

me

conversations with my therapist

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My Book – Conversations with my Therapist – A Path To Freedom

Imagine for yourself what it would be like to be free. Truly free. I allow you to be like a fly on the wall listening to the many conversations I had with my therapist. You get to read my mind as I go through some of the most intimidating, intimate, and private times of my life.

I’ve never written a book before now. It was definitely a daunting task. I believe, though, that all of my time and energy was more than worth it. May you be blessed in your journey.

Below is a link to my book, it’s available through Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2/135-8495823-2278467?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Conversations+with+my+therapist

thank you for reading,

My book is finally done!

It’s done! My book is finally finished awaiting publishing. I’ve been writing it for five years, but only knew that I was writing it for a little over one year. That’s what happens when you journal. My journallings have been a consistent way for me to get my thoughts out of my head. With so many things going on, my head was noisy! I could barely hold a single thought longer than a few seconds, my thoughts would race from one event to another and I couldn’t breathe, let alone sleep. Journalling provided my means of escape.

My book? It’s a good book. It still makes me cry, smile, and laugh. It brings back terrible memories yet provides proof of how amazing my life is now. It shows how a person can climb her way out of chaos and create a life that she loves. It provides proof that life is changeable, no matter your age. If I can do it so can you. It shows determination, fear, love, peace, and hate. It is my first written masterpiece and I’m excited that it’ll finally be published.

I will let you know how to purchase it, hopefully within the next week. It’s terrifying letting my secrets out of my closet for millions to read. Yet it is so freeing, knowing that I can be authentically me. No more hiding, no more lies, just me. Thank you for being a sounding board as I struggled to find my way to air. May you, my readers, be blessed beyond your wildest dreams.

thank you for reading,

me

Finding my Voice – an excerpt from my book

I have this weekend off, I had wanted to go to my boat to be still and to have quiet, but that just didn’t happen. I’m glad I stayed home; it has allowed me to work on my book some more. My book, it’s ‘finished’ but needs a lot of editing. Editing is difficult, though. I’m reminded, as I read, of where I was and who I’ve been in my past. My past no longer defines me. It’s weird reading what I’ve written. I often say that my book wrote itself. It had to be written, I had no choice but to continue typing hour after hour. When I reread it I don’t recognize myself, yet I do. I’m more than I was, stronger, and more confident. I wrote a short journal entry that I’ve included in my book, on finding my voice. Discovering, and not hiding, who I truly am. Here is a little excerpt:

“Journal entry – my voice

I’ve been looking for my voice. I have been trying to find who I really am. I have been quiet so long, too long. What is my voice? Who am I?

My voice carries when I have love and when I have anger. My voice provides for me a way to express myself. My voice is in my writing although I never noticed it before. I didn’t notice it was gone, I was only lonely and depressed. When it does shine through, it is not a bad voice. My voice is able to chastise or to love. My voice can bring people together if I let it. If I can learn to speak again then I can heal. If I can heal then I can begin to let others heal. How did this happen? What changed? Just a week ago, less really, I wondered why I even lived. Each night I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. Each morning I was disappointed that I awoke. How did I decide to live? I’ve let my opinion be known on a couple of important things. I have realized that by letting myself speak, by preventing my silence from continuing, that I have reengaged a part of myself that has had no voice for so long. Let myself speak, speak for those I love. Give voice to those who have none. This is what I have begun to do. Give voice to those who are too scared to speak for themselves. Love others. Love me. Does finding my voice mean I no longer hurt? No. If anything, it hurts worse. Now I am willing to admit the pain.”

So, yeah, I am still finding my voice. It grows stronger daily. Have you found your voice? Or do you hide who you are meant to be?

thank you for reading,

me

Thoughts? A book…

Lately, my life has made some extremely wonderful turns. I’m newly single, building a life that I love; yet already in love with life. I’ve traveled through hell and back and I’ve survived. I’ve done more than one person ought to do and I’ve made life happen despite it all. So, I did something. Like many of you who read this, I’ve decided to write a book. A book about my journey so that I can set it out there for others so that they maybe can believe in themselves again. I’ve decided to be vulnerable, letting it all out. Trusting that there are those around me who need me to stand up and stand out. Trusting that there are many out there who need someone like me to start it all.

I remember being alone, feeling alone, feeling hopeless. I was alone. I didn’t have someone to stand up beside me until I made that giant first step. What if there is another person just waiting to make the step to freedom but is too scared to stand alone? What if that person just needs to know that she (or he) is not alone? What if everyone knew? This world could change, it would change. Abuse would not be a dirty little secret any longer. What if a woman could stand up in her church and tell the truth? What if the church told her more than to pray for her husband? What if?

So, the truth is, dear readers, I have written my book already. I’ve been open and vulnerable and honest about my journey. I have friends reading it now. At first to see if it was worth putting out there, and now to see how I can make it more readable and with fewer mistakes. The feedback so far is that I must put this out there. I wrote it like my life depended on it. I wrote every morning before the sun rose and each evening past when the house was quiet. I wrote daily for weeks, months really, until this past summer when I finally finished it. My journey is not over but I ended the book so that I could bring it to completion. I look forward to putting it out there soon. Be waiting. It has a trigger warning in the beginning and yet I hope that does not stop you. It is my path to freedom, my journey, yet it is also yours who have no voice yet. It is for you.

thank you for reading,

me

Jealousy? Where did you come from?

And yet another emotion… jealousy. Wow. This one kind of surprised me. But recognizing it I understand and I’m OK with it. (Which also surprises me. I seem to be constantly surprised at how my reactions have changed over the last several years.) So rather than hide from it, from this new feeling, I decided to bravely and carefully take a closer look at it. I somehow trusted myself to be able to handle what I found.

What did I find exactly? I decided to call it jealousy but it’s not a green with envy kind. It’s more of another discard to a point. The man is dating someone and honestly that’s what I’ve been hoping for. I’ve wanted him to get his mind off of me and want to get on with his own life so I wouldn’t be a target anymore from his old life. I’m glad that he’s dating, it’s good. And yet, with the realization of it, I still felt the discard. The reminder that I’m not important to him. Why would I be important to him? I never have been, why would leaving him change that? Silly me.

What’s going on inside, then? Where did this emotion come from? It’s my kids. I love my kids and I want them to have amazing lives and I want what’s best for them. The problem is, I want to be enough for them and I’m not. I could never be, either. Kids need both their mother and their father to develop into healthy adults. Preferably neither mother nor father is a complete jerk, though. I’m worried my kids, especially my youngest, will meet his girlfriend and come to love her as she love me. As if she doesn’t have enough love in her to love both of us! Of course she can. I’m just jealous because of fear, because I don’t want to lose someone else. I’m jealous because I love her beyond my own breath. And my fear is unfounded. The future ahead has so much possibility and it can be good.

How can him dating be good? Maybe she could help him be a better dad. Maybe she can help him clean up his mess and make sure my kids don’t come home with lice again. Maybe she can make sure they actually sleep in their own beds in their own rooms for the first time in two years. Another woman could turn that house upside down and make it a home again. And that would be good for my kids.

And yet? I remember how my life was with him and I remember how he lives and how he behaves and how everything is always someone else’s fault and how I could never in my wildest dreams be good enough for him. I remember how I fell for him and how easy that was way back when. I remember how terrified I was just to go home. I feel sorry for her, if she does choose to stay with him. I pity her for I will not warn her of him. She will have to learn for herself. She’s an adult after all. I pity the fact that if she stays she will wonder what happened to her life in twenty years. She will wonder how on earth she let all of her dreams go. That is if she’s able to. I know so many who have given up on their dreams and died internally. It may be that she is no different from him.

It would be nice, though, to not care anymore. But, that is who I am and I am learning that I’d rather feel how I feel than go back to the chaos. I’m in love with living now and having my down moments is just part of life.

thank you for reading,

me

Being Weird

Weird – out of the norm; state of being that allows unique and unfamiliar traits to be represented; not going with the status quo; being true to oneself; living an abundant life…

I like that word, weird. It’s very useful when you experience an emotion you’ve never experienced before. It’s useful when trying to describe something that is good but completely new. Weird.

I have found that I use that word frequently lately to describe where I am. As I come closer to graduation I am confronted with the fact that I get to choose my life. Weird. I get to decide whether to relocate or to stay local, whether to keep in touch with some people or not. I get to decide if I want to work in a hospital, or a clinic, or a store, or on my own. It’s like I have a multiple choice game, a choose my own adventure kind of life ahead of me. I can decide for myself whether I like the ocean or the mountains or the plains or whatever. I don’t have to do what I’ve always done any longer. The only word for it is weird. Weird.

Why is there no word for being able to choose your own life? Why is it that people typically fall into a place and just make the best, or the worst of it, rather than change the place? Why is it that all of the decisions in the past were based on what other people thought, or did, or didn’t do… why did others pave my path instead of myself? Weird. Seems it’s more common than not that we don’t actually choose which direction we go. Why not?

Why is it we are constantly trying to prove ourselves to people we don’t know or don’t like? Why do we try to do things that we know we don’t care for? Why do we work in places we hate, live in cities we can’t stand, and never ever dream? Weird.

Who is it that decided we would grow up and be a doctor, nurse, teacher, lawyer, game designer, architect? Did we decide it? Did we really choose? Or did we ‘take the advice’ of our parents, our teachers, our peers? Did we try something and fail and decide with only one failure to just give up? Did we decide we weren’t good enough? What a terrible loss! How did we decide to give power to others on how we live our own lives? Why didn’t we just do what we felt best? Why didn’t we get out our hatchets and carve our own path instead? Weird.

I love the word weird. I love being weird. I love creating my own life how I feel is best. I love the fear that comes with the unknown, the knowledge that if there’s a twinge of fear that it’s good, that I will be challenged. I can feel the fear, the excitement, physically. Now that I am learning to listen to myself, my own feelings, now that I am doing that I am beginning to use my body as a measure of which way to turn. If there is a crushing feeling in my chest, if I cannot breathe and my heart begins to break, then I know that is the wrong direction. If the fear is there, the anticipation, the opening of my lungs, the breathing deeply and enjoying the breath then I know that that is the better choice, the better path to follow. All of this time has been wasted listening only to my head, listening to the lies others have told me, and not listening to my heart. Weird.

Maybe we could all be a little more weird. Weird in our own individual ways. Maybe we can actually step up and into who we are meant to be. Maybe we can actually tell it like it is, speak truth in love and let others know how we feel. Maybe we have to start with ourselves. Maybe we need to learn to listen to our dreams, our own individual purpose. There is hope, there is peace but to get there you have to believe. Believe in yourself and trust in your power to accomplish more than you’ve ever knew possible. Let fear be your friend and your guide, who knows what’s on the other side of the bend? It may be a life that you love.

thanks for reading,

me